


Detention & Roxy Lalonde

by idkwhattoputherebro



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Humanstuck, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-26 01:34:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkwhattoputherebro/pseuds/idkwhattoputherebro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat Vantas/Roxy Lalonde, Humanstuck, Private Schoolstuck!AU. </p><p>In which Roxy Lalonde smokes too much, drinks too little, Karkat Vantas watches too many rom-coms, the showers at school are a safe haven, detention is something to look forward to, and cheer squad is overrated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Porrim Maryam had joined cheer squad as a passive aggressive stance towards Kankri. She loved it. She was absolutely infatuated with the glittery uniforms, the starchy socks and hair that felt like it was smoothed back with cement – but she’d never tell anyone that.

Kankri Vantas was best friends with Porrim. He hated cheerleading, mainly because of the triggers. Short skirts and dangerous flips, how scandalous! And they were so _mean,_ with the heavy makeup and expensive hair bows and that thing they did, tucking their manicured hands under their ponytails and flipping them as they sashayed by, just because he was short and talked too much. But he’d never tell anyone that.

Karkat Vantas was Kankri’s little brother. He hated everything. The fluffy, pretty, sparkling, all-too-perfect sheen over the romanticized cheer squad was easily penetrated. He could tell they did it for the popularity, they barely tried at practice, and when they did, was only because the football team was jogging down the field half-heartedly, whistling and hollering at them. There was a certain girl on the team, she was a freshman, had just gotten back from Juvenile Detention, and she was a beauty. Sugary blonde, whipped cream curls and braces and she was tall and skinny and when she laughed, she snorted, and you could see the gap in her teeth, and she had the most _gorgeous_ eyes he’d ever seen. People liked to say he fell in love easily because of his infatuation with romantic comedies, and they were right. Every rejection turned him more sour, but with a single ‘yes,’ he could become sweet, and he was ten thousand percent sure that if she was the one that accepted him, he could turn it all around. But he’d never tell anyone that.

And because of these relations, he was stuck sitting in the sticky, cold bleachers next to Kankri, currently ranting about Porrim’s decision to join cheer squad. Being a Vantas, he had learned to tune it out, and he watched the whipped cream hair girl do an impressive cartwheel. The gum he was playing with under the bleachers had to be at least ten years old; it was hard as a rock when he stabbed it with a pencil. She sprung into a handstand as he broke off a jagged piece of the black glue, cold from the snow.

He could never fathom how those girls managed to wear such skimpy uniforms in the stark middle of winter and live to see another day. It was barely above zero, and a few of the girls were standing off to the side in warm-up suits, weakly stretching. That one, however, had just done a row of front handsprings across the frosted ground, and he couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows in awe. She was impressive, and he felt himself thaw a bit when she started to laugh at the coach’s praise.

“Karkat, are you even listening to me?” Kankri had stopped sipping his coffee, and cast a spiteful look to the left.

“Why would I fucking listen to you, you’re being a little bitch ‘cause Porrim joined cheer.”

“Watch your language, Karkat!” It was okay, though, he was already starting to turn down his volume in his head again, and focused on the girl. She was drinking Gatorade, laughing at the said Porrim, who was wearing sweatpants underneath a cheer hoodie. The letters ‘SLHS’ were monogrammed on the front. “Why are you ogling that girl?”

“I am not fucking _ogling_!” He wished he hadn’t had been so snappy, Kankri was taken aback before he saw him smirk. Don’t do it, Kankri, don’t _fucking do it._

“Do you think she’s attractive?”

“No! Shut the hell up, Kankri!”

“Karkat, tell me, I’m your brother. We are contractually obligated to tell each other things like this.”

“And because of the relations I didn’t have a choice about with a piss drinking shit like you,” he stood up, brushing the snow off of his butt, “I will not enlighten you as to my opinion on a girl I’ve never even fucking talked to. End of story, good bye, I am walking home without you.”

“We live forty minutes away! That is awful thinking. You’ll catch your death out in the cold like that. Why do you think you have to sit here with me? You have to take Porrim into consideration here, also. By the time I drop you off and come back to pick her up, she’ll be absolutely frozen, and probably sick! That’s just bad planning on your part, Karkat!”

He groaned, shooting daggers at his brother, trudging down the bleachers. “Fine, but I’m planting my ass right here!” A middle finger was aimed up towards the older brother, and he resumed his search for a piece of hard gum, focusing on the blonde as she climbed atop a wobbling pyramid of numb girls.

Fingering a frozen chunk underneath the metal, he started to chip away absentmindedly, breaking his pencil down to the nub. He tossed it away to the side, resting his chin in his hand as he watched her climb. The pyramid had been reduced to groaning girls, all whining and wanting to go home, and Karkat wanted to slap all of them individually and tell them to shut up, because the girl with the gap tooth was just getting to the top. She was in the second row, on the left, and as the next one tried to rest a knee on her back, they all hissed, one shrieked in pain, and the one next to gap tooth collapsed, bringing down the right side of the pyramid. She came down shortly afterwards, screaming, and he wanted to jump up and help but they were already swarmed by football, all the boys taking their advantages with their hands, brushing off their backsides and the like. He spotted an Ampora, strolling towards the obviously injured gap toothed sweetheart, and he helped her up by the waist. She was colonially flustered – fanning her face and cheeks comically red as he smoothed down her hair with sweaty palms, and he could only imagine how gross that prick was making her cotton candy curls smell with those dirty hands. He bunched up the end of his sweater, setting his jaw as she flirted, curling her hair around a finger, giggling.

He wanted to go home. He was a bitter child in that moment, and as the coach blew the whistle dismissively, waving at them and wishing them a good weekend, he gathered his book bag and tossed it over his shoulder.

Kankri was hobbling down the bleachers, already smiling at Porrim, who was lighting a cigarette.

“Don’t know why I ever thought cheer would be a good idea,” she muttered, speech diminished by the light between her perfectly white teeth.

“Maybe because you fucking love it and you won’t admit it to anyone?” He suggested, clambering towards the car. The two behind him started protesting, but he popped earphones in and blocked them out, happy to hear something other than their bickering.

The ride home was long, honestly. Going to a private school was the only option for their dad, who would take nothing less than the best in the area. He was out on some religious expedition, a mega church, he was a pastor and took his job too seriously – he left his fifteen year old son to live with his older brother all alone at home and sent them monthly checks, but it wasn’t enough. Money couldn’t replace a father figure in his life, as cliché and shitty as it sounded.

Rushing trees went by, snow covered and hauntingly pretty, and as they dropped off Porrim, he admired the frosted glass, drawing a stupid pattern that he wiped away minutes later after Kankri started lecturing him about how expensive and time-consuming it was to clean glass and then his car, and then the house. Rolling his eyes, they pulled into their driveway.

Their house was pretty impressive, to say the least. It wasn’t anything to Feferi’s, hell no – he’d seen that small scale castle at an elementary school party and had gotten lost for six hours and cried in her bathroom. His was pretty large, his dad being a famous pastor, two stories and the epitome of everything American. White picket fence, red shutters and soft brick walls, a usually maintained garden, they even had a little old lady that stopped by every Monday to tend the house.

He got out, walking up the snowy cobblestone pathway to the door and throwing down his bag on the floor. Already, Kankri was shouting at him to pick it up and store it somewhere where they couldn’t trip and get hurt.

“Fine, fuck, whatever, I’m going on a walk. Just leave me alone!” He slammed the door behind himself, walking outside in a huff.

After walking for a few minutes, he regretted his decision. He’d dropped his coat on his bed when he’d gotten home. Hugging himself, he watched the misty curls of breath escape his lips, soles of his sneakers melting the layer of ice on the sidewalk as he went. He lived in a nice neighborhood; really, he didn’t know what he had to be sour about in life. Actually, an absent father, corrupt friends, awful grades and lack of a girlfriend came to mind, and he worsened his frown, spitting into the dead grass.

The sound of female chatter alarmed him as he neared the end of the street, and he looked up, scanning the court to find the source.

No fucking way. Two gorgeous girls were sitting on the curb, hot cocoa mugs in their hands, steam curling upwards and tickling their pink cheeks. Was that…? It was. For once in his life, he felt truly blessed, which was ironic, considering his family was religious as hell.

They noticed him staring, and whipped cream blonde grinned, waving. The dimples in her cheeks made his heart race, and he pulled what he hoped was a flattering smile and raised his hand at both of them. The other, with straight hair and earmuffs, had to be her sister.

Someone was calling, probably their mother, and she peered through the open door. She was wearing a lab coat and an apron, curly hair frazzled and she had a wine glass in hand. Casting looks between him and her girls, she took a sip, raising a brow.

“That one a’ your boyfriends, Rosey?” She was painfully drunk, Karkat wasn’t stupid. It was obvious.

“No, mother. We’ll be inside shortly; you should get ready for your… _date_.” She gripped her mug and Karkat started walking again, turning around. He could hear the conversation still, even with a quickened pace.

In his peripheral, he could see the girls stand up and brush off their coats. “Well, god dammit, get in this house an’ help me out!”

Muttered compliances, and the closing of a door. What would’ve been worse? A father that was never home or a drunken one who went out a lot? He had no place to decide this, and on his walk home, pondered each one until he figured that maybe some kids would be better off with no parents at all.

**~*~**

He saw her in detention that Monday. He’d mouthed off again – shouting at the new teacher for being a ‘pompous whore, who didn’t know heads or tails of what the fuck she was teaching,’ but it was okay. He couldn’t get kicked out because of his dad’s status and the tuition. Sitting in the heated basement of the school was better than chipping at decades old chewing gum under the bleachers anyhow.

She was sitting with that stupid Ampora again, and he was sharing a cigarette with her. The teacher who usually did detention showed up two times out of ten, so kids usually took their liberties. He started to doodle in the margins of his algebra homework, her whipped cream curls and her dorky smile that made her nose scrunch up and her eyes crinkle at the corners. As he dawdled with the edges of her eyelashes, he heard it for the first time.

Her name.

Cronus had leaned in close to her ear and muttered it, blowing smoke along her face, and she flinched, grimacing before bursting into fabricated laughter.

“Roxy.” He whispered it to himself, tucking the homework away. “Her name is Roxy.”

That day, on the too-long drive home, he smiled to himself. "What a pretty name."


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

He hated science. The teacher was god awful – she was loud and rude and annoying and she smoked in the middle of lessons and smelled like sugary pancakes. She always gave him detention and wanted nothing to do with his sour grimace. Everyone that was seated next to him ended up in punishment, so he sat alone in the back of the room next to the window where he could watch Roxy in the field during her gym period.

However, that Wednesday, she was nowhere to be found. He’d been scanning the field during a particularly painful lecture on mitosis. She wasn’t jumping over the high-bar-thingy-that-he-hated, not running painful laps around the track, not stretching on the sidelines, not even walking around with the lazy girls who sat and gossiped and touched up on their makeup. He was growing worried, knitting his eyebrows together, and considered asking to go to the bathroom so he could comb the school for her.

Then, there was a knock on the door, and he looked up from his rested elbow on the table. The teacher was grudgingly sliding across the room, taking a drag from her cigarette, and he swore his fucking _heart_ was about to doing backflips out of his throat.

“Oh, you’re the kid that got transferred to this class, right?”

“Yeah, Roxy Lalonde.” She sniffed, licking her lips, adjusting the pink polka-dot book bag on her shoulders. He’d never seen her in her plain uniform before – she wore an unbuttoned shirt and a sad, gray cardigan that didn’t match her personality at all. Instead of the required shoes, shiny and with tight straps, she had on a pair of neon pink, battered sneakers. She popped a large bubble, shifting to one leg. “So where do you want me to sit?”

“Uh, back there, next to the stuffy little jerk.”

Okay, wow, uncalled for. Seething with rage, he shifted around uncomfortably in his seat until he thought he was going to pop. He hated people looking at him. Clenching and unclenching the sleeve of his sweater, she plopped down, sighing, and resting her chin on her folded arms.

She smelled like cotton candy and bubblegum, and he hoped she wouldn’t catch him staring because she was so _damn cute._ When she grimaced at the popped gum on her nose, he could see her sunken dimples and the rosiness of her cheeks, and her black lipstick streaking everything. He wondered what her lipstick tasted like for a fleeting second before shaming himself.

He’d kissed Terezi once, back in middle school, and it tasted like paint and wax. Not a pleasant experience, especially since she’d been drinking for the first time and shoved her tongue down his throat, afterwards telling him he tasted like ‘ripe cherries.’

Harsh whispers were coming from his right, and he turned to look at the manicured finger poking his shoulder.

“Hey.” She mumbled, “Do you have detention tomorrow?”

 _Oh my fucking god you cocksucker, say something holy shit –_ he swallowed, licking his lips anxiously. “Uh, yeah.”

She lit up. _Holy shit she’s so cute, wait, fuck! Pay attention, she’s talking to you, dumbass!_ “Awesome! I didn’t want to be the only one, again.”

“Only one? Aren’t you always there with Cronus?” _Wow great conversation starter, Nancy Drew. You don’t have to question everything._

“Oh, him?” She rolled her eyes, curling her lip into a snarl. “We’re taking a break.”

 ** _Oh god yes._** “That sucks, sorry. What’d you do this time to get detention?”

“Caught with alcohol on school grounds,” again with the eye rolling, wow, she had pretty eyes, “Got wasted after practice with some chicks. You?”

 _She drinks? What the hell? Why?_ “Told Mr. English his toupee looked like a dead cat someone fucked.”

Her laugh was so fucking loud. It was loud, and she snorted, and then her cheeks got red from embarrassment, and she started to wheeze, and Karkat had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do because _wow_ she was so unbearably adorable. The teacher told her to hush, and she gave an honest effort, stifling laughter in her hands. Like he said before – it was pretty loud _._ It rang in his ears but he didn’t mind. This went on for about five minutes until he started to get dirty looks from around the class. Her makeup was starting to run; black smears in the corners of her eyes as she continued, and he reached out a shaky hand to her shoulder, trying to steady her as she slumped onto the desk, cheek landing on the slick cover of a textbook.

A fat curl fell over her nose and she scrunched it up, flashing a set of shiny braces and pearly whites. “That’s fucking great.”

The teacher had pushed a fat black box into the VCR, taking another drag with a blank expression. As the lights went out, Roxy tucked her head down on her arms, supposedly to sleep. Karkat watched as she took out her phone instead, the glow from her screen lighting up her pink cheeks. The light cast a beam through her pretty irises, enhancing the already inhuman shade of pink. Feeling his legs start to turn into jelly, he was unable to tear his eyes away from her face even when she turned to look at him incredulously. He fumbled with his papers, trying to act like he was occupied with something other than staring at her, but she scooted close to him and poked his thigh with the thin piece of lead of her pencil, the tip breaking through the threads in his khaki pants. It stung.

“What’s your Pesterchum?”

Everyone had a Pesterchum, it was an honest question. Most kids had longer conversations on Pesterchum than they did in real life, and they had the app, and the computer version and wait – _whoa. Whoa, whoa, man, hold up. **She’s asking you for your Pesterchum, asswipe. Give it to her!**_ He opened his mouth a few times before stuttering out something illegible, and she frowned.

“It’s uh, I mean, it’s – “

“If you don’t want to give it to me then all the power to ya, hun. I just thought you were funny.”

“No! I do want to talk to you! Just – I’m really fucking awkward when it comes to girls.” He wanted to drive a stake through his skull several times, waiting until he was on the brink of death to somehow magically repair himself and then crush his legs with a semi-truck. Dragging his broken legs through a field of glass and thumb tacks, he’d then chop off his dick with a butcher’s knife and then each of his fingers and let himself bleed to death. _Why are you so socially awkward?_

Her reaction helped a bit. She snorted, smiling at him with one temple on the table, looking down at her screen through her eyelashes. “I got the same problem with dudes, man.”

He mumbled it under his breath as the teacher neared, and they made small talk under their breath during the video. He learned that she did indeed have an older sister named Rose, and she was surprised to learn that he helped out with the technical stuff for drama club after school. She liked cats and video games and science, and they held a burning hate for the principal, Mr. English. Karkat was amazed to find that had actual things in common with each other, like a mutual dislike for most people and her love of computer hacking. He wondered how a girl could be so perfect.

By the time they left, he understood _Romeo and Juliet._ Parting really _was_ sweet sorrow, and his chest was full of butterflies – and at least butterflies are shit loads better than knots.

**~*~**

They talked for the next two weeks. A small conversation every night before bed, tiny talk about stupid things like school and cheerleading and drama club, and he knew he was knee-deep in the lukewarm muddy waters of love.

One thing that did throw him off, however, was the typos. Sometimes, when he talked to her late at night or on weekends, she’d misspell things and sound ridiculous. He thought at first it was just the time of night, but time proved that totally false. She was getting drunk. A lot. With her friends, or by herself, alone in her room. They’d talked after she’d taken shots. He was decoding her drunken slur over half the time, and he almost considered slowly starting to withdraw from their friendship – he could call it that now, right? – but he was goo in the middle. When she sent him rows of hearts when he wished her a good night and when she saw him at school and waved wholeheartedly, not embarrassed to be associated with him…it was a nice change of pace.

It was late, late, late on a Friday night, and it was snowing like god was jizzing on the Earth. He could barely focus his eyes. He’d been waiting up for hours for her to Pester him, and his cheeks burned when he smiled as her pink text flooded the gray box.

\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering carinoGeneticist [CG] at 14:34 –-

TG: yoooo karkles

CG: HEY LALONDE.

TG: whoa there partner didnt think ud be awake

TG: usually ur out like a light around this time

CG: I WAS ACTUALLY WORKING ON SOME HOMEWORK.

Liar. He was a dirty liar, but he didn’t want to scare Roxy away by just admitting he’d been waiting up until two in the morning for her to send him five sentences and then go drink herself to death.

CG: SO WHAT’S UP?

TG: nm rly just chillin w/ rose in my room

TG: were diggin in my closet for somethin 2 wear

TG: oh yeah u goin 2 that thing this weekend??

CG: THING IS VERY VAGUE.

CG: BUT IF IT HELPS I AM COMPLETELY AND FUCKING PAINFULLY FREE THIS WEEKEND.

TG: ok awesomes theres this party rite

TG: p sure it at gamzees place

TG: u should totes come his parties r fuckin greaattt

CG: YOU WANT ME TO GO TO A PARTY?

TG: god yeah isnt that what I just said???

CG: WELL I GUESS I CAN GO.

TG: when u get there

TG: promise meeeeee

CG: YES?

TG: that ull come an find me rite away

TG: im usually mixin drinks

TG: or hangin out in the basement

TG: i gotta go but find me there tomorrow at ten okay

TG: night <3 <3 <3

CG: I PROMISE. NIGHT LALONDE.

 

\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering carinoGeneticist [CG] at 14:49 –-

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes before grinning like a huge idiot into his pillow. _A party. She invited him to a party._

Oh god wait. What would he wear? Did he have to dress up or was it a casual thing? _What if they got time alone together?_ There was too much running through his mind and he squeezed his pillow and blanket tight in his arms, laughing and giggling until Kankri rapped on his wall with his knuckles moments later.

His muffled words could barely be made out. “Karkat, I am enthralled that for once in your life you are laughing, but could you please keep it down? I’m working on an essay that’s due tomorrow in my AP class, so it’s worth a large portion of my grade.”

He just closed his eyes as Kankri jabbered on, humming to himself as he dreamed sweet dreams of cotton candy hair and black lipstick.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

He had no idea what he was doing, honestly. Kankri had dropped him off down the street so he didn’t look as lame – but it was inevitable. He was wearing a collared shirt underneath his hoodie, just in case, and a pair of jeans, but he still felt unprepared and stupid. As he dug his fingernails into his palms, the house reared around the corner, loud and the ground vibrating with the throbbing music of the party.

It was a stereotypical party already. There were bright lights shooting colorful beams from the windows, kids were littering the lawn, some kissing, some drinking themselves silly. His throat was instantly clenched with nervous anxiety as they all eyed him, all thinking, ‘Who invited that loser to the party?’ He bit his cheek to stop his trembling jaw and took a deep breath. Forget everyone, he had come there to see Roxy, and that was all that mattered.

Taking a deep breath didn’t prepare him for the shittiest dubstep he’d ever heard in his life and someone throwing up in a colorful vase five feet away from him. The outside of the house was freezing, but minutes in the house made him swell with sweat. It was cramped and hot and uncomfortable, and Karkat was questioning the appeal of high school parties.

Oh yeah. As the sharp smell of vomit came to his nose, he remembered why he had even come here in the first place. Roxy. Where was she? Mixing drinks or in the basement, he remembered, so he headed out towards the kitchen.

He was appalled to find Terezi guzzling down a plastic cup of beer, cackling at someone’s joke. She was wearing a loose red dress and a pair of sneakers, which was painfully normal for her.

“Have you seen Roxy?” He shouted, tapping on her shoulder. He made out her filmy right eye focus on him, from beyond her red lenses, and he flinched.

“ _What?_ Speak up, McShouty, live up to your name!”

“I said!” He got close to her ear, breathing in cherry perfume, “Have you seen Roxy?”

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Yeah! She’s downstairs managing Spin the Bottle!” This close, he could see the cast of the flashing lights on her face, and he was taken aback. She actually looked kind of nice, wearing a bright lipstick and glitter on her cheeks. He remembered when he had the goopiest crush on her. Eighth grade was a dark time for everyone, and he sighed, turning to leave.

As he shimmied between two sweaty bodies, she landed a hand on his butt and shrieked something he couldn’t make out as he was pushed into the surge of dancing teenagers. He wanted to scream for everyone to stop grinding on each other and let him get to the basement, and he tensed up as Aradia’s butt passed over his midriff. Thankfully, she was gone as soon as she came, and she watched her unite with Sollux over the bobbing field of bouncing heads.

He pushed his way through the swell of swaying bodies, stumbling right into the banister of basement stairs. From the top of the stairs, he could make out not-as-shitty music, kids laughing and making various sounds of amusement and awe. He tromped downstairs, and as soon as he peered into the room, someone squealed.

“Karkat!” Roxy was sitting at the head of a lopsided circle, and she jumped up, running forward to give him a tight hug. She was taking his breath away in more ways than one, and when she pulled back instantly tugged him beyond a crowd of several people to sit in the ring. “You’ve got to play with us.”

“W-What?” He looked around at the circle, mostly kids he knew from school, before his eyes settled on Roxy. She was wearing a strapless black dress, giving a generous view of her chest and skinny legs. Hopefully she wouldn’t catch him _ogling_.

“Spin the Bottle, c’mon!” She grinned cheekily, nodding at the green wine bottle on the floor. It seemed to have been finished that night, a ring of deep red on the plush white carpet, splatters of the drink from spinning. He sat next to her, moving a grumbling Eridan aside.

As the minutes ticked by agonizingly slow, each person spinning and leaning forward for anxious, sweaty kisses, it was finally his turn. He pinched the neck of the bottle with his fingers, pushing it along the carpet until it came around twice, stopping at…he didn’t want to look. Peeking up through his dark eyelashes, he saw Nepeta zeroing in through his peripheral.

She was always a bit strange. From her ‘shipping’ to her greasy, unkempt red hair, she’d never really struck him as someone he’d like to talk to. Now, her cheeks were the color of her hair, and her striking green eyes were wide as saucers. He frowned, and Roxy clapped him hard on the back, sending him tumbling forward. When he was this close to her face, her tiny freckles were blurred into a mass of orange, and she grabbed the hood of his jacket, tugging him forward and pressing her lips against his. Ouch. That would definitely leave a bruise. Her lips were rough and her mouth tasted like beer and strawberry lip balm. He pulled back with a bitter face.

Roxy was to his left, and she grabbed the bottle, turning it until it spun fiercely, stopping in front of the one and only douche at Skaia Landing, Cronus. He flashed a charming grin with teeth so white they should’ve come with a warning label. He grumbled along with the blonde as she lumbered forward, scowling. He didn’t. Even. Budge. He forced her to swallow her _pride,_ her _dignity,_ and tromp on her knees towards him. Rage was boiling in his throat like bad heartburn.

When she was close, his meaty fingers closed in on the back of her neck and pulled her ear to his lips. He whispered something and she flinched. Karkat dug his fingernails so far into his palms they burned with pain. Just one quick peck was all she gave him, and just as he was about to sigh in relief, the hand on her neck pulled her in for a deep kiss. The entire circle whooped in appreciation, and his heart dropped straight through his ass and down into hell. He saw the slippery sides of their tongues running against each other. _Disgusting._

She plopped next to him, black dress fanning out and sending up a sweet smell of vanilla and vodka, and she swallowed hard. He couldn’t even bear looking at her. Spin the Bottle dragged along slower than he’d ever expected something to take. He got a peck from Feferi, and Damara scared him the intensity of her tongue. He fondly regarded Damara – everything she did fucked with Kankri so much he’d come home and rant about it for hours.

Roxy stood up suddenly, cantering over to the small bar in the corner with ridiculously high, bright pink platforms. How she managed to be intoxicated and not crack her skull on the ground with those on he would never know. After mixing a blend of Faygo and something in a gilded bottle, she turned to the circle, which had already started to thin.

“All righty, guys! Quick thirty minute break and then we’re doin’ Seven Minutes in Heaven!” Everyone downstairs cheered, along with the tipsy Lalonde, who downed her cup and waddled upstairs. _Seven Minutes in Heaven._ If he was truly blessed, the bottle would spin in his favor, and those seven minutes would be the most treasured ones of his life.

Karkat shambled after her, wanting to have a private conversation at the least, but she disappeared into the living room – a.k.a. the most fatal dance floor he’d ever laid his eyes upon. Someone who was obviously way too stoned to be there was thrashing violently with a beer bottle, another with bloodshot eyes screaming because someone broke his bong. The shattered remains of the rainbow vomit vase were passed across the hardwood floor between shuffling feet. He took a deep breath and sent up a prayer to whoever was listening. Bracing himself, he hardened his shoulder, shoving through an intense make out session. They complained loudly as he parted the dance floor like the Red Sea. He was Moses, and everyone he hated was the water. He guessed the angry couple could be considered the Egyptians or something. Roxy was the Promised Land. He thought. He couldn’t remember anything from World History. Maybe he had it backwards and – oof. His stomach landed right on Horrus’s elbow as he weaseled by to Rufioh. A quick apology and there were only twenty painful feet of dancers to squeeze through.

He came out gasping for breath and his face prickled with sweat. Roxy was leaned against the corner near an open window, pushing the smoke from between her black lips into the winter air. She looked heavenly in the glistening light of the snow, the brightness bouncing off her pink cheeks and reflecting away from the chunky jewelry on her neck. Her curly hair had been pinned to the side with a gold pin, and as she tapped the ashes from her cigarette, the glimmer of a ring caught his eye. Checking his breath with his palm and smoothing down his black hair anxiously, he approached her warily.

When he was close enough, she looked up with shimmering pink eyes and smiled. “Karkles, what’s up?” She looked sad.

He stepped a bit closer and rested his temple against the window. “Are you okay?”

She sighed through her nose, curls of gray fog brushing her eyelashes. “Guess not. You can tell, huh?”

“Yeah. Is it because Cronus or what?”

She opened her eyes wide and closed them tightly. Bull’s eye. “Yeah. I just, _wow,_ why did I ever go out with him?” Taking another drag, she rested her weight onto her other foot. He wanted to kiss her toes because he was sure they were aching awfully.

“He’s a huge ass, a pompous, pimply huge ass with six giant vibrating dildos rammed in it. You deserve someone better, and I mean that honestly.”

She chuckled to herself and finished her light, tossing it out the window. “You’re the fuckin’ greatest, Karkles. Let’s get something to drink.”

And they spent the remainder of the twenty minutes before she had to go back downstairs drinking flat beer on the Makara’s balcony, and she whispered to him, and he brushed his fingers along her smooth arms, and he really understood what Kankri meant when he said he liked Latula because he was going through that exact thing with this drunk Lalonde.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way. 


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

He wanted to gouge his eyes out with a fucking spear. He was so, so, so, so _goddamn lucky_ to have the bottle land on Roxy, but now she was pulling him towards the laundry room and he wanted to vomit from how anxious he was. Her legs were endless and white and soft and sinful and her hands were smooth and he could taste her fingerprints with the slightest touch, and her nails and how her thumb was pressed hard into his palm was making him Jell-O in the middle and her hair bounced and smelled like sugar and wow okay they were sitting down and the washer was cold against his sweaty back.

He swallowed and Roxy leaned forward, and her lips brushed his cheek, and even though she smelled like beer and Cronus Ampora, this was enough for him because it was all he had ever wanted. As she passed along his cheek, pressing her jaw against his own to whisper, he quaked in anticipation.

“Hurry up; we’ve only got seven minutes.” And dear _god,_ he did just that. In a flurry of bravery, he gathered the blonde up in his arms and kissed her so hard he hoped her braces hadn’t cut the inside of her mouth. Her lipstick wasn’t wax, but it was warm and soft and he traced the tip of his tongue along it before diving in and she tugged at her dress and he could feel her bare chest pressed against him through his hoodie and stupid collared shirt. He prayed that she couldn’t feel how hard his heart was pumping but with how fast it was working he wouldn’t be surprised if she could _hear_ it. He wanted to relish it and he would be damned if he didn’t but he loved her so much he wanted to worship the temple her body was. She tugged at his fat, ugly fingers with her pretty nimble ones and pressed his fingertips on her hip bones. Her dress had been long gone and _wow_ did she really mind if he touched her like this? Apparently not, because she was whining for him to just _do touch them already._

In all actuality and honesty, her boobs were impossible to feel on top of her stupid strapless bra. His hand ghosted over ribbons and lace and how useless was a bra when she was holding a fucking relic underneath it? Delicately and gently, he snaked his arms around her back and fumbled with the clasp until she giggled.

“It comes undone in the front,” was all she said, and with a flick of her thumb he could barely see her breasts in the thin beam of light under the door. He felt like his pants were going to pop at the seams. He was such a stupid teenage boy with a stupid boner and his thoughts were all stupid and Roxy wasn’t stupid but she thought she was and he kissed her again and wrote ‘you’re smart’ with his tongue in her bitter mouth.

They probably only had three or four minutes left at best, and he wanted to enjoy them to the fullest. He ghosted against her smooth stomach before landing his hand against it shakily, and he wanted to gag at the thought of Cronus getting to enjoy this before he had. It was almost there – the pads of his fingers brushed just along one of her jutting ribs, and his nail scraped along the underneath of her breast. Taking a small breath right out of her mouth he landed his palm on it, and her nipple was firm in the middle of his hand. It was soft and he pressed his fingers into it and she didn’t seem too phased, breathing gently until it swelled into the spaces of his fingers.

So he decided to cross every line that had been shoddily painted in this fucked up relationship and bury his hand underneath the puffy skirt of her dress. He could barely find the area between her legs through all that bullshit lace and that stupid petticoat, but when he did, she shot up and gasped, instantly grabbing his wrist, causing him to dig his fingers into her silky underwear. She mewled like a cat and he felt his face light up because it was smooth against his fingertips and sort of warm and she seemed to like it and he figured it felt really nice and it probably did, but what would he know? He jerked it to unrealistic plumber fantasy porn all the time.

Someone knocked and told them they had two minutes, so he drew away his hands and tried to no avail to fasten her bra. She did it for him and quietly whispered to ask for help and he did his best to zip up her dress. For the last minute she held his hand and kissed him on the cheek and said she hoped this wouldn’t make things weird between them. When Vriska opened the door, she cackled and said she knew he ‘wasn’t getting any.’

Little do you know, Vriska, what little you know.


End file.
